Notes: Song "Working Class Hero" by John Lennon and covered by Green Day.
Chapter 38: Learn How To Smile As You Kill
There was no time to be lost. As soon as the small group reached the entrance to the Qunari compound, Caitlyn whirled around to identify the First Watchmen who had stayed behind. They were already drawing their weapons, aware of what was happening.
"Why couldn't you have kept your bloody mouth shut?" Caitlyn snarled at Aveline, furious.
Aveline bristled. "As if you didn't provoke him too, Hawke!"
The gates burst open, and a squadron of Qunari gave bellowing war cries as they emerged quickly. A sharp wooden click filled the air, and a crossbow bolt from one of the Watchmen's weapons tore through the chest of the first soldier.
The Qunari were enraged. The soldier immediately behind the fallen one gave a shout of anger in his own tongue and swung his warhammer in a wide arc, knocking down several of the Watchmen with the blow. Those who could tried to scramble back to their feet, and the assault had only enraged those who were not caught directly in it.
"Defenders of Kirkwall!" screamed the one who had shot the crossbow. "This is your hour! For the city and the Maker!"
Caitlyn tried to avoid rolling her eyes at the dramatic exclamation and refused to think at this moment about the explicitly religious motivation. As she, Anders, and Aveline ran down the stairs to raise the rest of the city and find their other companions, she finally responded to Aveline's indignant remark.
"He respected my candor and courage! You provoked him!" she said. "But I wanted them to leave peacefully, and between you and Isabela—"
They dashed through the streets of Lowtown toward the Hanged Man. "What did Isabela do?" asked Aveline.
"She is the reason they're here!" Caitlyn exclaimed. "She took their Tome of Koslun and then lost it. She thinks she's got a lead on it."
"Or she knew they were about to attack and decided to get out of town," Anders said darkly.
She gave him a startled look. That was cynical—but it might be true. She didn't know about the elves, Caitlyn thought, but she might have known about Saemus Dumar. She hoped that Anders was wrong, but she could not escape the fact that Isabela had lied for three years, even knowing that Caitlyn was becoming heavily involved with Kirkwall politics and had even engineered the replacement of the former Grand Cleric with a new, highly anti-Qunari one. And all for coin, Caitlyn thought as she entered the street where the pub stood. She claimed she wanted to protect me, but what she really wanted to protect was her windfall, which she wouldn't get if we helped her find the Tome and made her return it to the Qunari peacefully.
People were emerging from buildings with weapons in hand, ready to fight. As they reached the Hanged Man, they saw that the three people they were looking for were already there. Varric, Fenris, and Merrill were standing guard, dire expressions on their faces. Merrill was openly carrying her mage's staff.
Caitlyn slowed down as they approached their other companions and tried to catch her breath. "All right," she said, her pace slowing. "We have... a little time. A minute or two, unless..." She closed her eyes and suddenly felt ill. She had been wary and alarmed about a group of armed, radicalized vigilantes, but it seemed very likely now that every one of the Watchmen would die in defense of Kirkwall—and not even wholly prevent the Qunari from attacking. The Qunari had strength of numbers. She just hoped that the Watchmen's stand would diminish those numbers. I won't let their sacrifice be in vain, she vowed.
Anders seemed to understand. He placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She opened her eyes, gathering strength from his support, and continued. "The vigilantes at the docks are fighting, but I doubt they can stop the attack. Their lives have bought us time, and we must use it. Aveline," she said, "you need to rally the City Guard."
Aveline nodded. "And someone must protect the Keep."
"The Keep, where there is still a traitor who conspired with Elthina," she growled. "Unless that traitor was Meredith... but... we can't do anything about that right now. Just rally them. Varric and Fenris... you should go with her. Raise the city along the way. Everyone who can fight, needs to."
Varric glanced quickly down the street. "I think they've realized that."
"Merrill, you, Anders, and I will take on the Saarebas when they appear. We need to stick together and protect the Keep... and the Chantry." She realized that, to the Arishok, the headquarters of the priest he had declared "the great enemy of the Qun" would be a prime target.
"The Templars should defend the Chantry," Anders disagreed as the group resumed their run through the streets.
"Do you think Meredith will order them to abandon the mages to defend a priest who is aligned with her foe?" she said darkly. "She's made it perfectly clear for three years whom she considers the bigger threat."
He scowled at that idea, unable to argue—and then, as the group rounded a corner, a small squad of Qunari, including three Saarebas, attacked.
Their magic was raw and ill-trained, but it was powerful, and a blast of lightning knocked Caitlyn to the ground. Her hair stood on end as the shock coursed over her body. "Go!" she screamed at the three non-mages. "Run!"
"But..." began Varric.
"Go to the Keep!"
Aveline understood. With a pained look on her face, she nodded and turned away, cleaving off the sword arm of one of the attacking Qunari as she did, to at least inflict some damage with her exit. Fenris followed, breaking free of the melee with a swing that sent a spray of blood through the air as its target staggered from the deadly chest wound.
Varric was reluctant to leave even after being told, but he finally resigned himself to it. As the non-mages ran, the surviving Qunari who were non-mages began to pursue them, leaving the Saarebas to fight Caitlyn, Anders, and Merrill. Varric scowled and pulled Bianca's trigger. A crossbow bolt thudded through the neck of the one who had blasted Caitlyn to the ground.
"See you at the Keep," Varric said as he finally took off, shooting at the Qunari who were pursuing Aveline and Fenris.
To the mages' absolute astonishment, the Saarebas that Varric had shot was still fighting despite the mortal wound he bore. They have been trained to fight to the end of their lives, Caitlyn thought. They don't know healing magic. To die for the Qun is all that they are taught to do. How can we fight people who see it as weakness to step away from combat to regroup and heal?
But they had to, and she knew it. Somehow, they had to outlast people who had been trained to fight without stopping until the last bit of life left their bodies. It's not weakness for us, she thought, and that's the advantage we have.
Anders cast a powerful spell, finally felling the wounded Saarebas, and while Merrill was engaged with the two remaining ones, he reached his hand down to Caitlyn. Gratefully she grabbed it and let him pull her to her feet. He cast a strong, glowing blast of healing magic, revitalizing her at once.
Merrill was surrounded by a shield of rock, green light, and grayish entropic vapor. She screamed a Dalish curse at the Qunari as she wounded another one, but Caitlyn knew that she could not hold both of them off indefinitely—and she herself was the best battlemage of this group by far. Merrill needed her help...
The Saarebas who was not wounded snarled and sent a blast at Anders, making him stagger backwards and clutch his side in pain. For a moment, the bluish-white light of Justice blazed from his eyes as the spirit attempted to heal him, but he was still wincing and out of the fight for the time being.
The sight of Anders in pain enraged Caitlyn. He targeted Anders because he is a Healer, she thought furiously, letting the rage flow through her and suffuse her with magical power. They don't know healing magic, but they know to target our Healers! You won't do it again, you horned animal, nor any others of your savage people.
Somewhere in the back of Caitlyn's mind, a part of her was shocked and disapproving of the fact that she had such a thought—that in the heat of anger, she had thought of her foe in such terms after attempting to be fair and only disapprove of their philosophy, or their actions against her city right now. But that was not the most prominent part of her right at this moment. A red miasma of fury was overtaking her. You know what to do, whispered another voice in her head. Do it.
All her promises to herself and Anders about blood magic forgotten, she took a heavy breath, reached for her blade, and sliced a wound in her arm in one swift movement. She clenched her fist and screamed an oath at the Qunari.
A red stream splashed through the air, spattering the ground, filling the air with a metallic reek. The Saarebas who had already been wounded fell to the cobblestones, a gaping wound in his midsection that was leaving a dark red puddle at their feet by the second. He was dying quickly. The last Saarebas was also bleeding, though he was still able to stand on his feet and fight.
But Caitlyn's hemorrhage spell had also caught Merrill. The elf's magical shields collapsed as she could no longer maintain them. She wavered, then tumbled to her knees. Blood dripped from beneath her Dalish armor, streaming through her fingers as she pressed the wound her friend had accidentally inflicted on her, and as she bent her head, she choked up more of her own blood. She raised her head in shock, elven eyes wide with horror.
Caitlyn was backing away, stunned and horrified at what she had just done. "Merrill," she whispered, her own eyes equally wide. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean—oh, Maker—" Her face crumpled. Had the voice that had urged her to do this even been her own thoughts? Suddenly she was not sure—and that terrified her even more. If it's a rage demon—
"It's... not... your fault," gasped Merrill. She cast a weak healing spell at herself, but it did not stanch the flow of blood.
"What? Yes it is!"
The Qunari mage saw their moment of shock, and despite his own wound, he attempted to seize the advantage. His fists glowed as he prepared a spell to blast the entire group—and probably finish off Merrill.
"No!" Caitlyn shouted. For a dark moment she felt the strange pull to use the hemorrhage spell again, even after what she had just done, but she rejected it at once and blasted the Saarebas with ice instead. He froze solid. She finished him off with a lightning spell, toppling him to the ground even as Anders—finally recovered—cast a healing spell at Merrill.
The elf got to her feet, grimacing and clutching her side. She took a deep breath and stared at both of them.
"Merrill," Caitlyn said, her voice weak and shaky. She wanted to cry at how fragile and vulnerable her friend looked right now—because of her. "I'm so sorry. I... didn't mean to..." She closed her eyes, shaking. Of course Merrill would know that she hadn't meant to do that. "I will never do it again."
Anders was staring at her, unsure of what to say. Finally he spoke. "Justice thinks that... he thinks he perceived..." He trailed off, unable to finish it.
Oh, Maker. A sob of agony and failure escaped her. "I know. I was angry and it seemed like..." She shook, suddenly overcome with fear for what had almost happened. "I will never do it again. And I'm still myself. It didn't get me." I think it might have tried if I'd listened to it the second time, she realized, provoking another shudder of terror. "It just... whispered to me."
"Then it wasn't your fault, as I said," Merrill said quietly.
"Merrill!" she exclaimed. "Don't absolve me of this. I listened to a rage demon in my anger and almost killed you. That is my fault."
"Listened to a demon..." Merrill repeated quietly, her gaze cast down, her words directed at herself.
Anders did not say a word in disagreement with Caitlyn. He stood aside silently, watching, as the two blood mages reckoned with what had just taken place.
"I... don't know if I can still fight," Merrill finally said. "I don't feel good. I lost a lot of blood..."
Caitlyn felt horrible. Her action had just cost them a defender. What would happen, now, because of this? Would someone die, someone whom Merrill would have been able to save?
I will never know for sure, she told herself, trying to get a grip on her emotions. I can't let this overcome me now. There will be time to reckon with this later. "I'm so sorry," she said again to her friend. "Do you think you can go to Hightown, to my mother's house? My mabari will be there to help, but he's otherwise the only defender that they have. Hopefully the Qunari won't bother with locked buildings, so you should be out of combat anyway. And if the path there is dangerous, then protect yourself and seek shelter."
Merrill nodded. She took a deep breath, squeezed Caitlyn's hand, gave her a regretful look, and turned aside toward Hightown.
When she was gone, Caitlyn turned to Anders, her green eyes wide. He did not offer to embrace her, but continued to stare at her pointedly. She knew that she deserved that, not comfort and a reassurance that everything would be all right. Everything would not be all right unless she kept to her word, and she knew it. That realization broke her.
"I meant what I said," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I won't do it again. I..." She turned aside miserably. "I don't want you to have to..." Say it, she told herself. Acknowledge the reality of what will happen. "To see me as a rage abomination and have to put me down."
A cry escaped Anders at that, and he did move to her at last, wrapping his arms around her. "Don't say that!" he exclaimed, hugging her.
"It's what would happen. You know it. You feared it would be you... that Justice would become Vengeance... but I have been the one dabbling with blood magic for two years, telling myself that I had it under control and I wasn't the one who had to worry about Fade beings... Maker, it would've been a pride demon if I hadn't been so angry when one made its move at last... and those are a lot harder to fight, my father told me..."
Anders did not know what to say. She was right, and that was the hardest part of it. It was a horrible idea to contemplate, but she was right. At last he said, "And you realize that. You know it and you accept now that it really could happen."
"It took hemorrhaging a friend in the middle of combat for me to see it," she whispered, clinging to him.
"Maybe she will see it too. She was looking as if she might."
Caitlyn choked down a sob. "I hope so. If we both can stop this... then maybe... I won't say it was 'worth it,' but..."
"You can't force her to do, or stop doing, anything. But you can do that yourself. Please, Cait."
She took a deep breath and drew away gently from his embrace, facing him, a new resolve in her eyes. "It ends now," she vowed.
He managed a weak smile. "Then let's go save Kirkwall."
Since there were only the two of them now, they tried to avoid engaging large groups of Qunari—but as they made their way through the streets of town, they did take the opportunity to remove isolated fighters whenever they could, ambushing them if possible. The civilians of Kirkwall who could fight were ready to do so, at least, and it became clear to Caitlyn and Anders that encountering skilled resistance in every corner of the city had made the task for the Qunari much more difficult than it otherwise might have been.
The news that, as Caitlyn had feared, all of the First Watchmen had fallen had also motivated the people of Kirkwall to avenge them.
"Maybe Petrice's assorted admirers and adherents will get it out of their systems today, by helping defend their city," he said in an undertone to her after a fight with a knot of Qunari with which several civilians had helped. None of them were put off by the fact that Caitlyn was openly using magic, at least.
"Maybe so," she agreed. "I was nervous about what was happening, but if they use their rage for this, I can't say a word against it. The Qunari attacked first."
When they reached the steps that led to Hightown, Anders muttered curses under his breath at the sight before him. Meredith Stannard stood in the path, flanked by Knight-Captain Cullen and another Templar, a female one, and she looked very smug indeed at the sight of an ostentatious staff in Caitlyn's hand.
Anders moved forward protectively, but she realized what he was about to do. "Do not even try to claim that it's yours," she said coolly. "I have suspected for years that Hawke was an apostate."
Caitlyn could hardly believe her ears. She clutched the staff and glared back at the Templars defiantly. "Kirkwall is under attack," she snarled. "Are you actually going to fight me while the Arishok is leading his soldiers in a sack of the city?"
"No," she replied. "In fact, the circumstances are dire enough that I have decided to authorize a few Harrowed mages to fight, with Templars supervising them. But after the Qunari are defeated, you are going to the Circle."
"We'll see about that," snarled Anders menacingly. Blue light crackled briefly on his hands—but nowhere else, so the Templars did not suspect anything other than a burst of magic.
"Indeed we shall, Warden. But for now, Ser Cullen, Ser Agatha, and I fight for Kirkwall," said Meredith. She gestured for the others to let them through.
"You're going to have to talk to the Grand Cleric at once," Anders said as they ran up the streets of Hightown. They had tried to rally the Hightown folk who had pledged support to Caitlyn, but none of them could be found at their homes. Caitlyn hoped that this did not mean that they were all killed.
"I know."
"She means it. And I swear before the Maker—I won't let them do it. I swear, I will take you and Mal and your mother and we will flee this wretched place with the clothes on our backs if we have to—"
"Anders," she said, "I won't let her do it either."
He breathed heavily, catching his breath as they rounded a corner. "I know. But—damn it. I'd say I can't believe that she's still targeting you in the middle of this, but I can. I absolutely can. You have to find Petrice..."
"Anders, I will."
They rounded another corner—and immediately found themselves face-to-face with Varric, Fenris, Ser Marlein Selbrech, Ser Thrask, Petrice, and Varnell. Every person in the group was armed, and every blade was bloodied, much to Caitlyn's surprise. She had not known that Ser Marlein or Petrice could actually fight, but the dual daggers they each carried were slick with red.
"Where's Merrill?" Varric asked.
Caitlyn cringed with guilt. "She was badly wounded. I sent her to my mother's house to recuperate... and protect them if it came to it."
"The First Watchmen have fallen," Varnell declared angrily. "They gave their lives to the last man and woman to try to prevent this. At least they took down numerous Qunari with them..."
"I heard about it in Lowtown," Caitlyn said somberly. "Grand Cleric... we have an additional problem. Anders and I encountered Meredith Stannard..."
Petrice glowered. "You do not mean to say..."
"She's threatened to arrest Caitlyn as soon as this is over," Anders said.
"It won't happen. But for now... we have a bigger problem."
"What is—"
"They have broken into the Keep," Fenris said dourly. He glared in the direction of the structure. "We think that the Arishok changed his strategy once it became apparent to him that people were fighting back everywhere in the city. We think he led a special group through Darktown that popped out somewhere here and then began to besiege the Keep."
"Three years!" Caitlyn exploded. "Of course they had the chance to learn about all of the connecting passages in the city, and Darktown has been preyed upon by criminal gangs for so long that everyone who lives there, criminal or not, would want keep to their own business to minimize danger. Nobody would pick a fight with a group of Qunari passing through!" As she raged, something utterly horrible occurred to her. "There's a direct connection to Darktown from the basement—my mother and Mal—and I told them to try to escape through the passages if they were threatened..."
Anders looked sick for a moment too, but he managed to rally. "They have the mabari and Merrill with them," he said. "And if the Qunari were targeting the Keep, that would've been their goal, not exacting revenge on you. That exit is a secret anyway; hardly anyone knows of its existence, let alone where it leads. They would have emerged from one that led directly to the street..."
"There hasn't been much fighting in Hightown—yet," Ser Marlein offered. "I think their objective was the Keep."
Caitlyn still looked very upset and worried, and Thrask spoke up. "I will check on them," he said.
She felt as if she should tell him not to go, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Nodding quickly and gratefully, she took a deep breath and finally realized that someone was missing. "What about Aveline? Is she all right?"
"She was leading the City Guard in Lowtown, where most of the fighting was occurring," Varric replied.
"If we are to defend the Keep, we have to have them here. That or the Circle mages that Meredith has claimed she's allowing to fight."
"Abandon the people of Lowtown to save nobles in the Keep?" said Fenris.
Caitlyn closed her eyes, seeing his point. It was a bad choice, either way. She sighed heavily as she opened her eyes again and gazed out at the others. "We won't take both groups of fighters. Let's get the mages." She glowered in the direction of the Gallows. "Does anyone know if they're fighting yet?"
"We didn't encounter any on the way here," said Varric.
Anders scowled. "Why does that not surprise me?"
Caitlyn gripped her staff tightly, her face set in anger and determination. "Then let's see the Knight-Commander. Viscount Dumar..." She sighed. "It is probably too late to save him. I didn't want this to happen. He was weak and foolish, but he wasn't a bad person and didn't deserve this."
As they approached the Keep en route to the Gallows, they realized that the Circle mages were actually there. An older middle-aged elf in mage robes, whom Caitlyn vaguely recognized as First Enchanter Orsino, was leading the mages in their attack on the structure. Even more surprisingly to her, Meredith and the other two Templars were fighting as well.
Caitlyn led her group to the steps, noting the bloodied, dismembered, and hacked-apart bodies that rested there—a mix of all four races. This wasn't what I wanted, she thought miserably. I am a vulture, picking the bones of the dead for myself. The nightmare that would not leave her head returned again, the diadem of Kirkwall dripping blood for miles behind her.
Meredith glowered at Caitlyn as she approached, scowling even more at the sight of Petrice with them. "They have barred the gate," she bit off.
"And you can't bash through it with your little sword, can you?" Anders said, unable to resist. He opened his left hand and began to ready a spell, a blast of rock.
"I have no authority over you, but what you threaten is exactly why I am right—"
Caitlyn cut in front, not interested in listening to this right now. "Mages, all together!" She readied a spell herself, a fireball.
"Everyone back up!" exclaimed Orsino. He glowered at the door.
Caitlyn, Anders, Orsino, and the Circle mages sent their spells at the heavy doors as one. Fire, stone, ice, raw entropy—all hit the doors at the same time. It happened in a second: The doors strained, then creaked, then burst open in a shower of fragments.
Caitlyn was prepared to be attacked the moment they blasted their way in, and she was not wrong. The Qunari who had been holding the doors closed had fallen, but archers began to shoot at the group at once. Caitlyn did not hesitate for a second; she threw up a magical shield that would block most projectiles—at the cost of allowing her to cast spells through it, but her goal was to reach the Arishok, and she did not waver. She glanced back unhappily as everyone in the group except for Anders immediately became engaged with the Qunari fighters, but there was nothing she could do. At least the Circle mages were there.
Anders stumbled behind her and took her arm, gazing at her. "Please," he said quietly. "Please don't do anything rash. Meredith won't take you to the Gallows, I swear. Even if Petrice falls now, I promise you, we will leave this place. Our son needs you. I need you. Don't be a martyr."
His face was so sincere, so worried, that she almost wanted to stop right there and give him a kiss. But there was no time for that, so the best that she could do was reassure him. "Anders," she said, "I wouldn't do that to you." She touched his cheek for a moment, smiling weakly. "I promise."
They gazed back at the group of fighters. A couple of mages had been wounded, but many more Qunari had fallen, and it was apparent already that her friends and allies—some albeit very short-term allies—were going to win.
That moment of relief did not last, as the sounds from within the inner Keep reached his ears.
"Here is your Viscount!"
Gasps and cries of dismay echoed through the door before them.
"Look at you. Like fat dathrasi you feed and feed and complain only when your meal is interrupted!"
The group at the shattered doors finished off the last of the Qunari, Varric's trusty weapon sending a bolt between the eyes of an archer. They hurried forward as Caitlyn and Anders gingerly approached the door behind which the Arishok was ranting.
"You do not look up. You do not see that the grass is bare. All you leave in your wake is misery. You are blind, but I will make you see!"
Caitlyn readied another burst of magic, fury building in her. She did not disagree with the Arishok's assessment of the Kirkwall nobility, but she was quite sure that she held her views for a very different reason. I disdain them because they don't care about the city or the poor, and turn a blind eye to the mistreatment of mages, she thought. He sent his soldiers to Lowtown to sack the city, slay the poor or take them captive, and he approves horrific abuse of mages. With a snarl, she blasted this door open.
The Arishok whirled around to face her. His face was set in anger. Before his feet cowered the assembled nobility of Kirkwall who had not the skill or courage to fight and had sought to take shelter in the Keep rather than even remaining with their families. There were no children here, she observed; they had abandoned their children at home and come here.
At the feet of one man rolled the decapitated head of Viscount Dumar.
"Hawke," the Arishok growled, reaching for his weapon. "I should have known that you would come." He studied her for a moment, then glared. "You share my contempt for these people. I see it in your face."
She readied her staff. "I have contempt for those who slay the defenseless. Is this what the Qun demands? They are useless to you, so you decree their deaths?"
Footsteps pattered behind her as the others caught up with her and Anders.
"They are unworthy," sneered the Arishok. "You know this. That one"—he kicked Dumar's head toward a cowering nobleman, who shrieked and leaped away—"was unworthy."
"They are people," she replied through clenched teeth. "You don't even understand that idea. To you, people are nothing except what they can do, and if they can't do anything of use to you..." She broke off, gesturing around the room. "You murdered people because you are angry about a book. A thing."
"It is more than a book," he snarled. "It is the life, the soul, of the Qunari people. It is worth a hundred of this city!" He glared at her. "And we cannot leave until we have it. What now, Hawke?"
"Did you really think I was going to let you leave after this, Tome or not?"
Anders gasped and tried to pull her back.
"Hawke!"
Everyone's head turned in the direction of the open door, where leather boots stamped rapidly down the hallway. A panting woman reached the threshold and slumped against it, gasping for breath.
"Isabela!"
Isabela held out the Tome of Koslun. "I believe I have what you're looking for."
"Isabela, you cannot be serious!" Caitlyn exclaimed. "After what they did, how many people they have killed today!"
Another person appeared, panting too. Ser Thrask had returned from the Hawke mansion. He met Caitlyn's eyes, a smile on his face, and nodded quickly. They are all right, she thought. For a half second, she reconsidered the direction of her thoughts. Would it not be better, more sensible, to walk away from this and return home to my family? Let Kirkwall go to the Void. If I defeat the Arishok, I will have to take over this accursed place myself and deal with Meredith. I'll have to keep Petrice from finding a new enemy. I will probably have to fight a Chantry schism over mage rights. Who needs that? I have reason to run; Meredith knows what I am and has threatened me with the Circle. I don't have to do this. I can take Mother and Mal, and the pets, and run away with Anders... My friends can come too if they want... We can leave this all behind and finally have that quiet, anonymous life that was taken from us seven years ago... just live privately somewhere, on our little farm...
The Arishok ignored the argument and the Templar as he stormed ahead. "This is the Tome of Koslun," he said, his voice suddenly calmer—but only for a moment. "I told you that we could not leave until we had it. But," he continued, his gaze fixing upon Isabela, "we will also take the thief with us."
With that, the temptation that had been flooding Caitlyn's mind vanished, replaced with cold reality. "She isn't going anywhere and neither are you."
"Caitlyn," Anders said in a warning tone. He reached for her arm again.
She pulled loose and faced the Arishok. "Isabela concealed this from me for years. I'm not happy with her either. But she will have her absolution here, among her own people, according to our laws—and you will answer for what you have done today." She paused before adding, "I wanted you to go home peacefully. If you had not done this, I would have given you the Tome and let you go. But that chance is gone."
The Arishok erupted in fury. "You challenge me?"
She glanced back at Thrask once more, thinking of her family, steeling herself. "Yes. I challenge you."
Anders sucked in his breath, anger and fear settling into his face. Caitlyn felt bad for a moment; he had not wanted her to risk herself. However, a hot rage was boiling in her right now, and the only people she was sure would fight in her place were her friends—and she could not ask that of any of them.
The Arishok bellowed his angry acceptance, confident that he could cleave a female Saarebas as he had done the defenseless old man who had been the Viscount of Kirkwall. As the intimidating figure stormed toward the door, to have the duel in the larger space in the main hall, Caitlyn's heart failed her for a moment. What have I just done? she thought as he passed. Was Anders right? Should I not have taken this risk?
But it was too late to back down now without being seen as a coward in front of the Kirkwall nobles—even though not a single one of them had even tried to defend the Viscount, based on the fact that the Arishok was uninjured. These fools believed that the courage of long-dead ancestors, whose exploits might have earned their titles originally, passed on to them and gave them the right to judge. As Caitlyn strode out the door, trying to maintain a courageous face, she felt contempt rising within her for these people, who followed behind as if to watch slave gladiators fight to the death in a Tevinter coliseum. Enjoy it while you can, Caitlyn thought angrily. The Knight-Commander was even smirking faintly, pleased at the idea that her adversary might be killed outright and that she wouldn't even have to bloody her own hands in the Circle. Caitlyn could not even think of her anger for that.
But none of her friends, none of the allies who had come with them, and not even Knight-Captain Cullen or Ser Agatha accepted this. They are angry. They are angry that Kirkwall's leaders were so derelict in their duty that a young mother has to fight a duel in single combat with the Qunari military leader to dislodge an occupying force. They are indignant and they want me to win, even the Templars that I don't know personally, she thought, taking note of their anxious and angry but encouraging faces. Well... Anders' face was just anxious and angry, but that was no surprise. I will make it up to him later tonight, she vowed—a promise to both of them that there would be a "later tonight" for her.
She and the Arishok faced off in a clearing in the great hall of the Keep, the crowd gathered around them to watch. Caitlyn tried to calm her thoughts. Focus, she thought. I am angry at many people right now, but the one I am about to duel is extremely disciplined, well-trained, and physically strong—and he is a murderer. He will not go easy on me. He thinks I am just a "dangerous thing" that has exceeded its proper limits, not a person. Block everything else out right now and focus on this.
When she raised her first glowing spell, several of the Kirkwall nobles gasped in surprise—and if Caitlyn had allowed herself to think of anything but the task before her, she would have felt additional contempt for the fact that they had not even noticed that she was carrying a staff. But she had succeeded in focusing her determination and anger on the Arishok, as he charged for her, his large sword raised in the air.
He was big and menacing—but he was very slow, both to run and to swing his blade. He also had enough massive muscularity that he could not stop his own momentum very quickly. Caitlyn was petite and fit, and it gave her plenty of time to dart away from him, even waiting till the last second—which she quickly learned was the best thing to do, to take advantage of the Arishok's trouble changing his own direction once he was moving. The swings of his blade were lethal if they connected, but they were also slow and easy to dodge. The Arishok was strong, and even as she hit him with spells, he kept going—but he was starting to show signs of fatigue from it. She would just have to chip away at him, she realized. One big dramatic spell to finish him was not a possibility—except for, perhaps, a huge blood magic spell, but she was determined never to use that again, and she could not use it here in any case. But I don't need it, she thought. I do not have to use that to defend myself.
In this fight, Caitlyn realized that everything she had learned about combat—from her father, her friends, even from the smuggling leader Athenril—had coalesced in her exactly when she needed it most.
The Arishok let out an angry roar as he realized that the foe he had thought an easy kill was evading him and slowly defeating him. His heavy footsteps slowed as he stopped running, then turned around to face her, merely a few feet from her—to her surprise. Was he about to change his approach?
He did not swing his blade. Instead he clenched his fist and swung a massive arm back, the dull blow throwing her to the ground and knocking the wind out of her lungs. The crowd exclaimed, and as she looked up, gasping for breath, scrambling to her feet, she saw alarm and fright in all of her friends' faces. Aveline was there now, she realized vaguely; at some point she must have returned to the Keep with the surviving guards. But she focused on one face in particular in that seemingly eternal moment. In Anders' face, despair and utter terror stared back at her. That was more than enough. I will not let him watch me die, she vowed, getting to her feet despite the bruise on her side. I will not let him have a memory of watching my body be cleaved apart, or have to tell our son that his mother will never hug him again. I will not condemn him to a cold, lonely bed. With that, she summoned the most powerful ice spell that she could—encasing the Arishok as he stood, his deadly blade frozen in the middle of an arc.
Caitlyn barely heard the crowd exhale in momentary relief as she darted across the makeshift arena as far away from the Arishok as she could. Anders would have healed her himself, that she knew, but these idiots would consider it dishonorable to receive help from "spectators," even in a duel with a foreign general who had slain their head of state. While the Arishok stood frozen, she cast the general-purpose healing spell on the bruise, feeling energy and comfort restored to her as the magic passed through her.
She got the Arishok with a second frost spell just as the first one was thawing. One thing she had learned from their three years' residence here was that they were particularly susceptible to cold, apparently because their people came from the warm tropical north and were acclimated to heat. It was difficult to cast the same spell in rapid succession, but she had the advantage now and she was not going to forfeit it. Qunari bodies were fairly resistant to fire, but there were other things she could do. As soon as that second ice spell struck the Arishok, she took a breath and blasted him with an arcing bolt of lightning, further disorienting him. Then, when the ice thawed off, she stunned him with a spell that targeted the mind with a crippling hallucination and used this moment to hit him again and again with nearly everything she had that would do damage—raw entropy, cold, lightning, summoned earth and rock, everything except blood and fire.
It was enough.
The crowd watched in awe as the massive, hulking man finally collapsed on his back, his sword falling from his grip, utter shock apparent in his face that he had lost a one-on-one duel to a human woman and a mage—but acknowledging it, as the life left him. "We... shall... return," he managed to get out as his last words.
When he breathed his last, the assembled nobles applauded.
Like sheep, Caitlyn thought, gazing out in disdain at the smiling faces. It's as if an entire district in their city didn't just get sacked, and dozens of people with more courage and loyalty to Kirkwall than any of these didn't just die. And even if they care nothing about Lowtown because Lowtown is poor, they let the Arishok murder Dumar too.
Her gaze shifted to the faces of her friends, allies, and Anders—who was now relieved, but utterly furious with her. They, at least, had somberness in the mix of the emotions that they displayed. They understood what had been lost. She gazed at Knight-Captain Cullen and Ser Agatha standing beside him. They were uncomfortable with what they had just witnessed; that much was clear—but they seemed able to accept it, though Cullen was struggling.
Then Caitlyn looked at Meredith Stannard.
The Knight-Commander of Kirkwall was gazing at the victorious mage like a predator ready to spring, to take advantage of Caitlyn's tiredness from the duel and make her move, fully aware that none of these so-called nobles would stir to stop her except perhaps for Ser Marlein Selbrech. Meredith began to draw her sword from its sheath. Anders' expression changed as he saw what was about to happen—but before Caitlyn herself fully realized it, another voice was speaking.
"It appears that the city of Kirkwall has a Champion," announced Petrice, staring hard into the cold eyes of Meredith.
The nobles applauded and cheered dutifully.
"And as Grand Cleric of Kirkwall, by the authority vested in me by Divine Justinia V as a high priest of Our Lady Andraste, I hereby declare this woman free of the Circle of Magi for life. As we have seen tonight, she has proved herself beyond question, having clearly been taught well by her late father and supported by her Grey Warden husband."
A part of Caitlyn bristled inwardly at the idea of so much credit being given to men, even those she loved, but she understood what Petrice was doing. The priest was normalizing the idea of mages having family lives, of mages with parents, children, and spouses, and Caitlyn largely appreciated it.
"She has demonstrated for all to see that she exemplifies the Prophet's command that 'magic exists to serve man.' The Champion will walk free, an example to all for what she has done tonight."
Anders gave a whoop and almost jumped out to grab Caitlyn in an embrace, just barely restraining himself. In spite of everything, she was beaming too. The threat is over, she thought. At least... the threat of being publicly arrested. I don't have to hide. I don't have to leave my weapon behind, making myself more vulnerable. I will still be in danger from underhanded schemes, like Anders is himself, but I can stop pretending to be something I am not...
And now the danger of being hauled away has shifted to our son: the child of two known mages.
That sobering, dark thought cooled her joy—and then Meredith spoke.
"I object!" the Knight-Commander exclaimed heatedly. She glared at the priest, then at Caitlyn, as the applause and chatter from the onlookers subsided. "This apostate was seen running from the Qunari compound immediately as the attack began, accompanied by that Fereldan Warden." She glared malevolently at Anders, refusing to acknowledge their marriage as legitimate with her cold description of him that utterly ignored it. "Merely days ago, they conspired with this new Grand Cleric, before she was such, to oust her predecessor—she, a known provocateur who incited hostilities with the Qunari through rallies and by encouraging lawless vigilantism! They provoked this attack for their own advantage—to seize power and to escape the rightful fate of an apostate mage!"
The useless aristocrats gave a collective gasp of shock and titillation at the prospect of a second duel tonight. Behind her, Caitlyn heard steel being unsheathed by one of her friends.
She decided that she had to put an end to this. Whatever Meredith might "object" to, Petrice's words were final. There was nothing to fight over. That gave her the courage she needed. "It is fascinating," she said, her words quickly becoming a sarcastic drawl, "that someone who did almost nothing—who, so far as I can see, spared only the Templars you see before you, and only allowed a few Circle mages to defend the Keep—now stands over the desecrated, decapitated corpse of the Viscount and blames the person who defeated his murderer and the priest who tried to prepare and warn this city!"
The crowd gave another excited exclamation.
"Were there other Templars fighting tonight, Meredith?" Caitlyn sneered. "Or other mages? Did you use Templar abilities to fell any Qunari mages? My friends and I felled three. While the City Guard defended the people of Lowtown, which took the brunt of the attack, and those 'lawless vigilantes' died to the last man and woman to diminish the numbers of Qunari soldiers, you did as little as you could, and yet you dare condemn us?"
"The Champion is right," spoke up one of the aristocrats, much to Caitlyn's surprise. "Your priorities are misplaced, Knight-Commander."
"Thank you for your support," Caitlyn said crisply to the man. "Now, we have work to do. There is blood on the streets of Lowtown, and bodies of the fallen on the very steps of this building." She turned to Aveline, eyebrows up.
"I have left a garrison in Lowtown to keep order," she said at once. "We are rooting out the last attackers and blockading the building to keep those who remained inside from escaping until it is decided what to do with them."
If they didn't participate in the attack, I don't want to do anything to them except send them north, she thought, but that can be settled later. "That's good. In the meantime, I think that all of you should return to your own homes. Hug your families," she urged them. Suddenly she was taken by the overpowering urge to see her mother and son again. "And we will all be on the streets tomorrow by sunrise to... begin the accounting."
As she gathered her group together to leave the Keep, she spared one final glance at the Knight-Commander, who was standing as if frozen in anger, her eyes again bloodshot and her skin a pallor of icy fury.
Outside the Keep, Ser Marlein Selbrech turned to Caitlyn. "I know that you want to go home and see your mother and child," she said, "and this won't be long—but we really need to act, as soon as possible, after what we saw tonight from her."
"Yes," Caitlyn said heavily, "we do."
"I need to find de Launcet, Selby, and the others," the woman continued, "and make a plan. Unfortunately we still have that Montfort hunting party in a week or so..."
Caitlyn suppressed a swear. "I wish we didn't! That's going to look awful, rich people going to an Orlesian chateau so soon after this." She considered for a moment as an idea occurred to her. "If we really must go, then we need to raise money for Kirkwall there. For the families who lost someone, especially, but also, for rebuilding what was burned and destroyed."
Ser Marlein nodded. "I understand. It's a lovely idea. And we will hold the moot as soon as we all return, I think. Since the city is now without a Viscount and the heir—if he is even still alive—joined the Qunari, we cannot wait, or Meredith will usurp power to herself even with the new Grand Cleric."
"I agree completely."
Once the knight had left, Caitlyn turned to her companions. Anders and her friends were the only ones now with her group—the priest and Templars had returned to their own posts—and she had been thinking about what to do with one of them specifically. Her gaze fixed upon Isabela in a hard glare.
The pirate stared at the ground. "You know I didn't want this."
"You don't have to tell me that," Caitlyn ground out. "I think better of you than that, and I don't blame you for what the Arishok commanded. He made his own choice, as did those who followed the order to slay civilians. But Isabela... you lied for three years about what was happening."
"I wanted to..."
"To protect me?" she said bitterly. "How well did that work out? And let's be honest: You wanted coin, which would have been lost to you if we had recovered the book for you, because we would have wanted to return it to the Qunari peacefully."
"It was never possible to get them to leave peacefully. You saw what happened. He demanded me. You know what he would have done to me?"
"Yes, I know," she said, grimacing. "I do know. And maybe you're right. Maybe there was no peaceful outcome that wasn't morally abhorrent. I honestly have no idea whether they wanted the book because the leadership knows it contains some dark secret they don't want out—perhaps that the way they govern is not what Koslun wrote, for all I know—or because they have this idea that there are things of the Qun and things of the 'bas' and the two should never mix. Maybe they just didn't want their enemies to get it. Honestly, I don't care, either. Maybe they don't have a full copy of their own and this is the last one—but that's their fault if so. They are responsible for their own actions, whatever their reasoning might have been. I don't blame you for what they did... but I do blame you for lying to me for so long. I'll never know what might have been possible if we'd been in on the secret from the start."
Isabela sighed heavily.
"Oh... I've changed my mind, by the way," Caitlyn added. "After what happened today, I am really not that interested in returning the Tome to them. Sell it if you want. Not to Tevinter," she said in a hard tone, aware that Fenris would not like anything that helped Tevinter, even after what he had seen today, "but sell it, by all means. However... every single copper that you make from the sale will go to rebuild Kirkwall and to compensate people who lost someone today. Every. Last. Copper."
Isabela looked horrified at being ordered to give all of her coin to charity, but she could not bring herself to object.
As the group broke apart to go their various ways, leaving Anders and Caitlyn to head up the street to their house, she realized that the anger that she had seen before she had defeated the Arishok was emerging in him again. He was gripping her arm increasingly tightly as they neared the door.
"You're angry with me," she said quietly.
"I didn't want you to risk yourself for this... but I'm not going to get into it here. Your mother and Mal are waiting for us."
Leandra was almost fallen to pieces when her daughter and son-in-law entered the house. "Oh, my dears," she exclaimed, falling into Caitlyn's arms and bursting into tears. "I can't believe it! I have been so frightened..."
She patted her mother on the back and drew away gently. "We're all right, though. The Qunari have been defeated."
"There is a rumor that Viscount Dumar..."
"He is dead," she said regretfully. "But the one who slew him is also dead, by my hand."
Leandra took that in for a moment before gasping. "By your hand? But then..."
"The new Grand Cleric has declared me free of the Circle, publicly and for everyone to hear, including the Knight-Commander."
Mal emerged from the kitchen just as she had finished saying this. He let out a cry and rushed for his parents, who instantly smothered him in a hug.
"We're all right," she assured him, holding him close as Anders enveloped both of them in his bigger embrace. "We're all right."
Are we, though? she thought to herself. Will we ever be all right? I have set things in motion now that I cannot stop. I am really going to do this... and I cannot forget the price. I cannot forget what happened. I cannot forget the—incident—with Merrill. I am going to have power. Can I trust myself with it?
Notes: It's always been strange to me that Meredith would not arrest a mage Champion as soon as the applause ended and people moved on to other things. She has been influenced by red lyrium for at least a year, probably longer, on top of her own native zealotry. On the other hand, the problem could be avoided in canon if Elthina rather than Meredith named the Champion. She could declare a mage free of the Circle, and she would have a reason to single out one mage as "special": so that she could continue stringing the mages along and make them think she cared about them. It's one of those things about this game that I think show the rushed production timeline; canon does not make sense and it wouldn't have taken that much of a change to have it make sense.
